Why Women Take So Long in the Bathroom

When you have to visit a public bathroom, you
usually find a line of women, so you smile politely
and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check
for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is
occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly
knocking down the woman leaving the stall.

You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't
matter, the wait has been so long you are about to
wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern "seat
covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is
handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the
door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so
you carefully, but quickly drape it around your
neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put
it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume
" The Stance."

In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles
begin to shake .You'dlovetositdown,butyou
certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay
toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you
reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet
paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your
mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to
clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no
toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose
on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse.
(Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you
have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at
the same time). That would have to do. You crumple
it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller
than your thumbnail .

Someone pushes your door open because the latch
doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is
hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and
you and your purse topple backward against the tank
of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach
for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled
tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing
altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET
SEAT.

It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too
well that it's too late.

Your bare bottom has made contact with every
imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat
because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that
there was any, even if you had taken time to try.
You know that your mother would be utterly appalled
if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom
never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly,
dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you
could get."

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of
the toilet is so confused that it flushes,
propelling a stream of water like a fire hose
against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine
mist of water that covers your butt and runs down
your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow
sucks everything down with such force that you grab
onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of
being dragged in too.

At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the
spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're
exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you
found in your pocket and then slink out
inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with
the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with
spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of
women still waiting.

You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A
kind soul at the very end of the line points out a
piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe.
(Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the
paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand
and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need
this."

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since
entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed,
he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your
purse hanging around your neck?"

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with
a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be
kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what
really does take us so long. It also answers their
other commonly asked questions about why women go to
the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can
hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you
Kleenex under the door!

This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could
describe it so accurately!

Enjoy

Last edit by FranEMTnurse on Jul 7, '07
: Reason: Misalignment of the title

Too funny! Reminds me of something that happened recently in a hospital restroom...This was a single restroom with a toilet and sink. No hook for my purse, and the floor was grungy, so I set it on the edge of the sink. No counter, just the skinny sink edge. As soon as I was perched on the potty (just outside arm's reach of the sink), My purse tiped into the sink which had a motion detector faucet!! I couldn't jump mid-tinkle to grab it, so the inside of my purse was 2" deep in water by the time I could snatch it out from under the running faucet. Lost a phone, car-door opener, and several important pieces of paper to that debacle!!

too funny! reminds me of something that happened recently in a hospital restroom...this was a single restroom with a toilet and sink. no hook for my purse, and the floor was grungy, so i set it on the edge of the sink. no counter, just the skinny sink edge. as soon as i was perched on the potty (just outside arm's reach of the sink), my purse tiped into the sink which had a motion detector faucet!! i couldn't jump mid-tinkle to grab it, so the inside of my purse was 2" deep in water by the time i could snatch it out from under the running faucet. lost a phone, car-door opener, and several important pieces of paper to that debacle!!

This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so accurately!

One day a woman had an 11:00am appointment at the gynecologist office. However, at 8:30 that morning she got a call from the doctor's office saying that her appointment had been changed to 9:30.

Most woman take extra care when they wash up for such an appointment, but not today. She ran into the bathroom, found a washcloth on the sink, and did a quick scrub. She raced over to the office, waited her turn, and was in stirrups when the doctor came in.

"Wow, we spent extra time to clean up today!" he said. Puzzled, she goes home, and later that day her daughter asks her where her washcloth is. The mother says "Just get another one!"

The daughter says "No mom you don't understand, that is the one with my face glitter and sparkles in it".

All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of
easy, painless removal - The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and
now...the wax.

My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix
dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring
painfully in my mind for the next few hours: "Maybe I should pull the
waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet.

So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom.

It was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax,
you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm
and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else)
and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be?
I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to
figure this out.

So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each
other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my
genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees.
("Cold wax," yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin
around it tight and pull.

It works! OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can
do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinair.

With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the
kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting
championship. Using the same procedure as before (hairdryer and all), I apply the one strip to the right side of my bikini line, stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (Yes, it was a long strip)

I inhale deeply and brace myself....RRRRIIIPPP!!!! And then, I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!

Then, vision
returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the
strip. Another deep breath and RRIIPP!! Everything is swirly and
spotted. I think I may pass out...must stay conscious...Do I
hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to normal.

I hold up the strip. There's no hair on it! Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???

Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see
the hair. The hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax.

Then I make the next BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet?

I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do
and think to myself "Please don't let me get the urge to poop.
My head may pop off!"

What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right???

WRONG!!!!!!! I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment. I sit.

Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued
together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt
cold wax.

So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!!

God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a
phone put in the bathroom!!!!! I call my friend, thinking surely she has
waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a
very good conversation starter - "So, my butt and who-ha are
glued together to the bottom of the tub!"

There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks
for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. And fails miserably.

I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night.

While we go through various solutions. I resort to scraping the
wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your girlie stuff covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot
water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.

My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving
grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax.
What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and ...

The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my
friend. It's sooo painful, I but I really don't care. "IT WORKS!! It works!!"

I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up.

I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice
to my grief and ....THE HAIR IS STILL THERE.......ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!
So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts.
I could have amputated my own leg at this point.

Next week I'm going to try hair color......Now that's funny ......
Notttttttttt. Send this on to other ladies who need a good laugh

You have no idea how hard i'm laughing right now!!!! That story about the public bathroom is so true! The only thing they left out if while you're performing a three ring circus act to pee, the little kid in with his mom in the next stall keeps trying to sneak in!! Happens to me EVERY TIME ! Thanks for the awesome laugh!